


nightmare

by reddiextozier



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Dream Smp, Exile, Nightmares, Tommy has a nightmare, TommyInnit - Freeform, Your Tubbo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:21:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28043865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reddiextozier/pseuds/reddiextozier
Summary: He threw the lid open, and reached inside, feeling around the darkness for the one item he needed right now, the one item that he knew would help him feel better, the one item that was his proven weakness and the only thing keeping him sane right now.His hand grasped something cold and metal inside the darkness of the ender chest, and his heart jumped when he pulled out a glowing purple compass, pointing in the direction of his home, of the person he called his home.In the direction of Tubbo.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 38





	nightmare

Tommy woke up in a panic. His body jolted up into a sitting position, his eyes snapping open and being welcomed by darkness. Sweat was coating every inch of his body, and while normally he would absolutely hate it and get up to shower immediately, the nightmare he had just experienced was holding him back from doing anything but pulling in sharp breaths of air. 

His eyes were wide as he looked around his small tent, making sure that there was nothing lurking around him, as they had done in his constant nightmares. His throat ached, and he assumed that he had been screaming in his sleep. His hands shook as they came up to touch his face, feeling sticky tears against his warm skin. His chest felt as if it were on fire as he breathed deeply, attempting to get as much air into his lungs as possible. 

The light from the moon above him peered through the slit of the cabin opening, helping him to see that there was nobody else in there with him. His panic began to settle, but didn’t fully go away. It never really did, not after his nightmares had begun the first night of his exile. He thought he would be used to them by now, would be used to screaming himself awake, to sweating through his few clothes or staring wide eyed at the other end of his tent when he woke up. It had been a little over three weeks since he had been exiled though, and he had yet to get anywhere close to used to these things. 

He hated it, hated the nightmares that plagued his mind and drove him to the brink of insanity every night. He hated that the nightmares were leaking into his reality, hated that he would occasionally see flashes of the beings from his nightmares, would see people that he didn’t want to see or craved over anything else. 

His hair was sticking to his forehead, sweat glueing it to his skin in an uncomfortable way. He quickly ran his shaky hands through his hair and then down his face, trying his best to wipe the tears away, to wipe the fear away. His heart felt like it was going to race out of his chest, and he wasn’t sure if he would be able to go back to sleep anytime soon. There were no clocks out here, no real way to tell time other than waiting until the sun came up. 

Panic was still very present in both his mind and his bones, settling deep inside him and leaving him trembling against his blankets, sweat continuing to cake against his skin as he brought his knees up to his chest and cried into his jeans. Loud sobs wracked his aching body, flashes of dark figures crowding his sight as he closed his eyes. He saw people from L’Manberg, he saw people he had never seen before, big and burly and bearing down on his small form. He saw Dream, his sword pointed at Tommy’s throat as he laughed and told him over and over again that his friends didn’t care about him. 

He wished he could stop the nightmares. They usually started out the same, with him in the middle of the journey to Pogtopia, his armor weighing him down as he ran from something that he couldn’t remember. He was always alone, completely isolated from anybody that he could hope would save him. He would never know what or who was chasing him when the nightmares first started, just knew that he had to get away and to the safety that was Pogtopia, to the place that his older brothers were. 

He would yell out for random people, would hear footsteps behind him getting louder and louder as they got closer, Tommy’s pace not nearly fast enough with the heavy armor that adorned his body. He would always have a sword in his left hand, a purple glowing compass in the other, his feet pounding against the ground as he called out for Wilbur, Techno, Phil, _Tubbo_. But nobody would come to his rescue, and he would instead be answered with the intimidating laughter of Dream himself. It would click when he was almost in sight of Pogtopia’s entrance that he was being chased by Dream, was being hunted like sport. 

It would feel like hours that he was running, sweat clinging his shirt to his skin and his limbs aching. His heart would feel like he was going to burst from his chest, his mind would run a mile a minute as he tried to think of a way to get past this thing that was chasing him and into the safe arms of his brothers. 

And as he ran, he would see glimpse’s of that stupid white mask, of that bright green hoodie, of arrows whizzing past his body as he pushed forward in exhaustion. The trees would part before him, giving him a rather clear path to his safe place, to the place where his family would protect him and make sure he wasn’t hurt. 

But every time, right as he would get to the entrance that went into Pogtopia, would see Techno and Wilbur reaching their arms out for him, their eyes wide in fear and worry, the world around him would wash away, leaving him in a black space where he couldn’t see anything, couldn’t feel anything, could only hear. He would hear different things sometimes, telling him he was useless, that he didn’t deserve life, that nobody truly cared for him or loved him. 

But the voice was always the same. 

Dream’s voice would forever haunt Tommy, would forever leave him trembling and broken in its wake. 

And then Dream would appear from the darkness, turning everything red and fiery wherever he stepped. Slowly, as he approached, his sword straight out, pointed directly at Tommy’s throat, the nether would become more and more evident around them. 

Tommy would be on his knees in the middle of the path Dream had helped him make to the L’Manberg portal, tears running down his cheeks as Dream’s haunting mask got closer, until the tip of the sword was pressed directly to Tommy’s throat, digging into his skin each time he swallowed. 

The heat around them was far more painful than in real life, the lava loud and wild, like an ocean, splashing against the sides of the bridge, swirling and making everything shake, scaring Tommy to his very core. The nether around them was falling apart, pieces of walls falling and splashing down into the lava in large sections, sending lava flying into the air. 

He never felt as vulnerable as he did in this nightmare. Kneeling in front of Dream, the cold blade of a sword pressing into his skin, his ears full of loud crashing and terror staking itself in every inch of his being. He couldn’t move, couldn’t take his eyes away from Dream’s mask, tinted orange from the lava on both sides of them. 

Sometimes, the worst times, like tonight, he would blink, and in Dream’s place, Tubbo would appear, his eyes dark and wide, a manic smile on his lips, his face twisted in an expression that Tommy had never seen on his best friend before. And his terror would grow tenfold, consuming him as the tears became a sea on his cheeks, the lava would get more intense, spilling over the edges of the bridge, slowly inching closer to where the two stood. 

“The discs are more important than me, right Tommy?” Tubbo would say, his voice strained and scary, leaking hatred and betrayal. Tommy would shake his head frantically, would try to raise his hands up to reach out towards his friend, would mutter and babble about how much he cared about Tubbo, how he didn’t mean that, how there was such a deeper meaning behind the discs that linked directly to Tubbo. 

“Tubbo no, please I swear they aren’t-” 

But Tubbo wouldn’t listen, or he couldn’t hear Tommy’s words around the lava popping and pieces of land crashing around them. He would shake his head, clench his fist around a compass in his free hand, glowing purple, looking like the exact one that Tommy wore as a necklace in this nightmare world. 

And then he would plunge his sword into Tommy’s throat, to which Tommy would jolt awake, shaken, scared, gasping for breath and sobbing into his hands, his heart racing in his chest as he tried to chase away the image of Tubbo from his mind and replace it with the loving, always smiling Tubbo that he remembered. 

Sobs continued to wrack his body as he tore himself from his bed, the image of Tubbo’s manic smile flashing before his eyes as he took a few wobbly steps across the tent and falling to his knees in front of his ender chest, whimpering in pain as a rock dug into his knee. 

He threw the lid open, and reached inside, feeling around the darkness for the one item he needed right now, the one item that he knew would help him feel better, the one item that was his proven weakness and the only thing keeping him sane right now. 

His hand grasped something cold and metal inside the darkness of the ender chest, and his heart jumped when he pulled out a glowing purple compass, pointing in the direction of his home, of the person he _called_ his home. 

In the direction of Tubbo. 

He fell away from the ender chest, falling onto his butt against the grass and dirt below him and hugging the compass to his chest, his eyes falling shut and his head falling back against the tent wall behind him. 

He hated that Tubbo was his biggest weakness and his biggest strength. He hated that he was exiled from his home by his best friend. He hated that he was never visited by his best friend. He hated that he was given something so precious, something that gave him a way to know where his best friend was at all hours of the day. He hated that he was given a reminder that his best friend was so very far away. 

He hated that it was the only thing that could comfort him any more. 

His fingers clenched the compass tightly to his chest and he let his thumb run against the scraggly words Wilbur had written across the back, his breathing calming down and his breaths evening out. He could feel himself calming down, felt his body relaxing against the wall, felt the sweat and tears drying uncomfortably against his skin and clothes. 

He knew he must have smelled, knew that he should probably go out and wash off or at least change clothes so that he could hopefully fall asleep, but his bones ached, and his brain felt like it was going to explode. He could feel how cold the compass in his hand was, could feel Tubbo’s name against his palm, could feel the glowing object pressing against his heart where his heart was, beating against the metal and sending ounces of comfort and warmth through his body. 

Slowly, he stopped seeing Dream behind his closed eyelids, stopped seeing that terrifying image of Tubbo, stopped sweating profusely and felt his heartbeat return to normal. He was curled in on himself against the wall, the compass pressed between his body, when he finally let his eyes fall open and take in the tent around him. No shadows jumped out at him, no masked man lurked in the corners, no best friends pointed a sword at his throat. 

He let out a breath of relief and squeezed the compass, letting his body fall to the right and against the soft grass, his cheek pressing into a small flower that he hadn’t known was there. 

He didn’t want to fall asleep again, knew that the nightmares would come back for him and he would wake up screaming again, but his eyes felt heavy, and his body exhausted. 

So he let his eyes shut and pressed the compass impossibly closer to his chest, letting his breaths even out as he held his best friend close, and he was more than happy to find out that his dreams were full of memories of him and Tubbo before they had been thrown into the terrible place that was the Dream SMP.


End file.
